Some of the saddest stories you’ll ever read have been written by the person responsible for monitoring the care and protection of children and youth in British Columbia.
Inevitably, they all have a tragic ending: a child dead because of neglect and abuse while in foster care, and shoddy oversight from social workers in whose care they were. The conclusions of these reports come with demands for improvement and are usually followed by promises from the government to do just that.
Yet, little seems to change.
Last week, Jennifer Charlesworth, B.C.’s representative for children and youth (RCY), submitted a report sharing the story of the horrific death of an 11-year-old Indigenous boy she calls Colby.
In 2019, Colby, who was then 10, and his younger sister were taken from the custody of their mother over concerns she was not properly caring for them. This was a decision made jointly by B.C.’s Ministry of Children and Family Development and the Child and Family Services Department of Colby’s First Nation. They were placed in the care of the mother’s cousin, Staci, and her caregiver partner, Graham, who lived on a nearby reserve. In her report, Ms. Charlesworth said the children were not allowed to go to school or see other family members. Nor was Colby taken to see doctors, despite health issues.
In February, 2021, Colby was the victim of a severe beating by Staci. He was later declared brain-dead and removed from life support just days before his 12th birthday.
Staci had put Colby and his sister under video surveillance over concerns they were stealing. The hundreds of hours of footage would provide crucial evidence that eventually led to the criminal conviction of Staci and Graham to 10 years each for manslaughter. There were sentenced to another six years for abuse, time that was to be served concurrently.
Here is the part that makes you seethe even more: Social workers didn’t check up on the children in the seven months leading up to Colby’s death, despite concerns raised by medical and school officials that they had not seen them in months.
And then there is this, from Ms. Charlesworth’s shocking investigation: “RCY learned that two Department staff were aware, due to familial connections, of Staci’s past abuse of her own child but that this knowledge was apparently not heard or explored during the decision-making process for the placement.”
Members of Colby’s Nation apparently knew Staci was likely unfit to be the guardian of Colby and his sister, and yet allowed the placement to go ahead anyway. If that is the case, there is blood on a lot of people’s hands here. The ministry, social workers and members of the Indigenous Child and Family Services Department had information that might have prevented this tragedy – but didn’t share it.
Meantime, some of the response to the report has been equally infuriating. Grand Chief Stewart Phillip, president of the Union of B.C. Indian Chiefs, said it’s important for First Nations to control their own child welfare.
That sounds wonderful in theory. But in the case of Colby, an Indigenous child welfare department had at least some control in decision-making. “We are concerned about the potential off-loading of services to Nations despite their readiness, concerned about the resourcing for healing, and about the readiness of Nations through this process,” the report said.
I have enormous sympathy for social workers in B.C. – and across the country, for that matter. Their job is not easy and is generally underappreciated. Another report out this week by Ms. Charlesworth chronicled the high degree of stress and burnout in the profession; the same thing could have been written five, 10, 15 years ago because this is a situation that has been raised for decades now. Nothing seems to change.
The reality is, the demands on social workers are even more complex today given the challenging and changing environment around Indigenous children and their families. First Nations want greater control over placements, which is an entirely appropriate demand given the history of Indigenous children being taken from their families and put in the custody of non-Indigenous caregivers.
But the fact is that more power and authority has been given to Indigenous communities around foster care, and it hasn’t necessarily been a story to cheer about. As far back as 2013, B.C.’s children’s advocate wrote about the province’s decision a decade earlier to give First Nations more control over child-welfare decisions. That report, by Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, was scathing, saying the move had been undermined by a complete lack of oversight and accountability. I’m not sure how much has changed.
Meantime, child welfare in B.C. remains as fraught as ever, and continues to be a wellspring of some of the saddest tales you’ll ever hear.